English
Indonesia
Chinese (Simp)
Japanese
Korean
Spanish
Portuguese
French
German
ArabicClassroom of the Elite: Surviving with the Intel System — Chapter 30
Chapter 30: Violence Solves Nothing
Sakura Airi practically treated her own existence as an apology.
She shrank into the corner of the classroom during lunch breaks, her shoulders hunched as she silently picked at her bento. Almost no one bothered to initiate a conversation with her. Since Shimizu Akira’s desk sat directly to her left, he occasionally tossed a simple greeting her way, but their interactions never evolved past that. Her replies were barely audible whispers, fragile and fleeting, let alone her ever starting a conversation herself.
The idea that a girl like Airi would suddenly confess her feelings to Yamauchi Haruki was nothing short of a joke.
It wasn’t that Akira harbored a specific grudge against Yamauchi. The guy was just completely pathetic. He spent his days loudly broadcasting his delusions about romance, with nine out of ten sentences inevitably spiraling back to his lower body. He loved to brag about his imaginary popularity, completely oblivious to the fact that most girls in Class D wouldn’t even spare him a direct glance. He possessed ordinary looks, abysmal grades, and average athletic ability. There wasn’t a single redeeming quality to latch onto, mostly because no one cared enough to remember anything about him.
Akira cast a cold, sidelong glance at Yamauchi.
Connecting the idiot’s constant tall tales with Airi’s transparent, timid nature made the truth glaringly obvious. Yamauchi simply assumed she was an easy target—a quiet girl who wouldn’t dare speak up to expose his boring, fabricated lie.
Men bragged. It was a common flaw. But there had to be a bottom line. Lying about middle school test scores or exaggerating past relationships only made the liar look foolish. Yamauchi, however, was actively using a defenseless girl who couldn’t even raise her voice as a stepping stone to inflate his own fragile ego.
That wasn’t just vanity. It was a fundamental character defect.
Already simmering with irritation over the revelation of Class D’s zero-point balance, Akira hadn’t hesitated to snap at the idiot.
The result played out exactly as expected.
Yamauchi’s face froze. His lips flapped silently for a few seconds, struggling to form a coherent defense. Failing to muster even a half-decent rebuttal, his face flushed a deep, humiliating red.
“…mistook her for someone else,” Yamauchi muttered grumpily under his breath, slinking back to his seat like a beaten dog.
‘Can this school expel students?’
Akira stared at Yamauchi’s hunched back, the thought drifting casually through his mind. The guy was a walking liability. He sat at the absolute bottom of the academic rankings, possessed zero useful talents, and actively generated unnecessary friction. Even in a dumping ground like Class D, Yamauchi managed to scrape the bottom of the barrel. It was painfully clear how utterly useless he was.
Still, since the entrance ceremony, Yamauchi hadn’t directly provoked him. And when called out on his nonsense just now, he had at least backed down immediately.
A prickle of awareness drew Akira’s attention. He turned his head, catching Hirata Yosuke staring at him with deep concern. Akira raised a single eyebrow.
‘Does he seriously think I’m about to beat the guy up?’
A dry chuckle echoed in his mind. He might be in a foul mood, but he wasn’t about to resort to physical violence over a petty lie. Besides, Akira actually held a fair amount of respect for the class representative. Hirata was a genuinely bright presence—always actively pulling introverted students into the fold, patiently tutoring the failing idiots, and even burning his own private points to fund class gatherings.
Akira knew he could never be that kind of saint. But as a fan of a certain bizarre adventure manga in his past life, he always maintained a quiet reverence for those who possessed a true golden spirit.
Pulling out his phone, Akira tapped open his messaging app. Hirata had proactively exchanged contacts with him during a casual chat last week. He hadn’t expected to use it this soon.
[Shimizu Akira: Hirata-san, relax. No matter how annoyed I get, I wouldn’t use violence in a classroom. This is a place of learning.]
[Shimizu Akira: Violence solves nothing. I’ve always believed in convincing people through reason.]
Hitting send, Akira casually shifted his gaze back toward the center of the room.
Hirata stared down at his glowing screen. The usually composed, perfect student blinked, a rare expression of utter bewilderment washing over his features.
‘Hmm? Did I say something weird?’
Akira frowned. He had only offered a standard reassurance, clarifying his stance so Hirata wouldn’t stress over a potential brawl. With Hirata’s high emotional intelligence, he should have accepted the olive branch easily.
Instead, the golden boy looked as if he had just read a statement that shattered his entire worldview. It made Akira wonder if he had inadvertently touched a nerve, or if his own intimidating reputation was already skewed beyond repair.
A sudden vibration in his palm broke his train of thought.
He glanced down. A new message had arrived from their homeroom teacher, Chabashira Sae.
[Chabashira Sae: Come to my office after school. We have something to discuss.]
Akira’s brow furrowed. Why would a teacher who actively ignored her students’existence suddenly summon him?’Is it because I figured out the rules and didn’t share the crucial intel with the class?’
He dismissed the thought almost immediately. Chabashira wasn’t the type to coddle them. She operated more like a cynical spectator, watching the defective students drown in their own incompetence. On the first day, she had played the role of a hands-off manager, deliberately withholding the most basic survival rules. If he hadn’t cornered her for answers, she wouldn’t have offered a single syllable of advice.
Yet, during his gamble with Sakayanagi Arisu, she had subtly intervened. She had even gone out of her way afterward to warn him to hoard his private points.
‘What a contradictory woman.’
Akira tapped the screen, firing back a brief [Understood].
He had plenty of questions, but ignoring a direct summons from a homeroom teacher was a bad tactical move.
This reminded him of last Friday. Horikita Suzune, who sat right next to him, had marched off to confront Chabashira right after classes ended.
‘I wonder how that went.’
Akira shifted his gaze to the adjacent desk. The black-haired girl sat with her spine perfectly straight, but the air around her was heavy enough to suffocate a small animal. If her usual aura was a chilly “do not approach,” her current mood had violently escalated into a lethal “step near me and die” domain.
“What exactly did Chabashira-sensei say to you?” Akira asked, his tone casual.
“Hmph.” Horikita let out a sharp, derisive scoff. “When I finally tracked her down, she had the nerve to say—’I am already off duty.'”
She gritted her teeth, biting off each syllable as if chewing on glass. “She told me to come back before five o’clock today.”
“A dignified homeroom teacher,” her voice dropped an octave, dripping with a dangerous, icy calm, “who guards her clock-out time more fiercely than a civil servant.”
“She just texted me to meet her after school,” Akira said smoothly. “Let’s go together.”
Horikita paused. Her sharp eyes darted toward him, calculating the angles.
‘If I go with him, I might be able to extract more useful information.’
She loathed relying on others, but she couldn’t deny Akira’s sharp insight and ability to control a conversation. Having him in the room would drastically improve her chances of getting real answers out of that infuriating woman., since he was summoned independently, she wasn’t asking for his help. It was a mutual coincidence. That technicality perfectly protected her fierce independence.
Horikita pressed her lips into a thin line. After a heavy beat of silence, she ultimately did not voice a rejection.
“Notify me once the exact time is confirmed,” she said, her tone returning to its usual indifferent baseline.
“I’ll text you beforehand.” Akira nodded, a quiet, pragmatic understanding settling between them.
‘Trading contact info really does make things easier.’
Horikita didn’t view it as a compromise. To her, it was simply the most optimal move on the board.